Come a Little Closer
by precious.emerald
Summary: AU: Stiles Stilinski has managed to get accepted into Stanford – "All thanks to some killer luck," he will forever claim – and is nervous. As he attempts to stay out of trouble with Scott and maintain his scholarship, he cannot help but let his mind wander to various things, such as the Greek god whose room is across the hallway from his.
1. Chapter 1

"All ready?" Sheriff Stilinski asked, placing the last duffel bag into the trunk of his son's beat-up, old Jeep and slamming the door. He was reluctant to let Stiles go, especially when the boy seemed to find trouble wherever he went, but he knew he would have to let him go sooner or later. (Sooner seemed the better choice considering that the Sheriff was picking up heavier cases at the police department, many of which involved unnerving things that would only lead to trouble for the teenager.)

Stiles swallowed the saliva that had been collecting his mouth before speaking. "Yeah." He placed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and leaned onto the tips of his shoes, closing his mouth (for once) and casting his eyes down to the ground. "Who is going to keep you from eating every hamburger in sight, though? I should stay here in Beacon Hills, dad. I can just become a cop, I don't need to go to an expensive college and study something that could become impractical when computers take over everything anyway."

Sheriff Stilinski was already shaking his head, the familiar frown/grin appearing. "Stiles, get going. You have a drive ahead of you, son." He reached his arms around his son, giving him a short clap on the back and pushing him toward the door of the Jeep. "Everything will be fine. I promise to make sure I don't eat too many hamburgers."

Stiles shook his head as he climbed into the seat of his old vehicle. "That's so pathetic. Even Ms. McCall could lie better than that, dad."

His father laughed, the crinkle of skin at his eyes showing his age, which made Stiles more nervous. "I love you, son. Call me when you get there so I'll know you didn't get lost." Before Stiles could respond, his father shut the door of the Jeep and gave it a light slap. He gave his son a smile before turning back towards the door of their house. "You'll do great, Stiles."

†

Stiles had his various duffel bags and suitcase stuffed under his arms as tight as he could possibly manage as he tried to maneuver through the campus. The trees were still a luscious green for the summer and everyone who was present for freshman orientation seemed to be out in the grass talking to each other and finding friends.

He tried to stay on the sidewalk as he moved through bodies of students toward the main building. He had in his possession a key, a room number, and a piece of paper with his roommate's name scrawled on the back in old ink. Rooming with Scott, his best friend since he could remember, was not an option. Ms. McCall was not too keen on the idea of her trouble-making "sons" (which she included Stiles in, of course) spending more time together than they needed to. Of course, this idea might have stemmed from all of the trouble they got into in Beacon Hills. As Stiles would say, though, she shouldn't have been surprised; Stiles's father was the Sheriff, which meant he knew everything that was going on, even if he had to get it out of his dad by encouraging him to drink a _little extra_ of his favorite whiskey on those rough nights home from the station.

Stiles shoved the piece of paper into his mouth as he pulled the duffel bags even tighter to his body (if that was possible) so he could easily get through the crowd. He had told Scott he would meet him outside of the main building around eleven, but he wasn't so sure he would make it that far without being trampled to death.

_These people are probably all geniuses with GPAs of, like, 4.5_, he thought, shaking his head and taking a deep breath as he passed a group of hippie-looking straggles sitting on the ground passing around a guitar. He still wasn't sure himself how he had gotten accepted into the college of his dreams – even worse to think about was how Scott managed to get in. _His good looks_, Stiles thought, _and that jaw probably got him a lot of sympathy votes_. He laughed to himself as he walked on through the yard, tossing the key he had over in his hand.

His plaid over-shirt should have been making him feel far too warm in the California heat of August, but he looked as if there wasn't a care in the world, where the ninety-eight degree temperature was involved, at least. His mind, though, was very occupied.

Every student on the courtyard looked as if they belonged to a club where only very attractive people were allowed in. Even the hippies he had crossed a moment managed to look semi-attractive with the hundreds of feet of hair they owned between the seven of them. He knitted his eyebrows together, happy that he had at least let his hair grown out a good inch-and-a-half over the summer. The buzz-cut was okay for high school in Beacon Hills, but here at Stanford, combined with his wardrobe of plaid over-shirts, geeky T-shirts, and jeans, it might have made him stand out as The Stoner Guy Who Is Way Too Smart – which he would have been okay with, too, if it wasn't for the scholarship he needed to maintain so his father wouldn't need to work two jobs to pay for his college. Teachers don't often take a liking to students who look like they just rolled out of bed, so that wasn't exactly what he needed.

He reached the main building across the courtyard and saw Scott standing by himself near an old archway.

"Hey, man. Did you get lost?" Scott laughed, happily taking one of the duffel bags from Stiles's arms to lighten the load on his best friend.

"Har-har, good joke, Scott. Remind me to use that one later," Stiles grinned after grabbing the piece of paper out of his mouth. "What room are you in?"

Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out a similar-sized piece of paper. "I'm in B-210. That sounds like there are steps involved." Scott grimaced, his mind already wandering to the inhaler stuffed into his right pocket.

"If I have to, I'll carry you up there every day. Don't worry, Scott. I'm in B-something. Same dorm building?"

Scott pulled out a map of the campus from the bag slung over his shoulder. "It's right beside of the library, too. That's definitely a good thing, especially if we want my mom to think we aren't causing trouble," he laughed, folding back up the map. Scott's mom would be happy to hear they could be closed to the library and study – which Stiles was really hoping there would be some (or a lot) of.

Stiles looked at his piece of paper and smiled. "Mine's 211, that has to be near your room!"

They made their way through the campus, across the courtyard again, and to the large, old building that was housing dorm rooms with _B_s attached to the number. Stiles made sure that they took their time getting up the steps to where 210 and 211 would be, cautious to not irritate Scott's asthma.

The rooms were across the halls from each other. Room 211 on the left and 210 on the right. Scott was thankful that the rooms were the very first ones when you got to the second floor.

"Yes! This is going to be awesome," Stiles said as his mouth formed into a wicked grin. "I have a feeling that this won't be so bad after all, Scott." He dropped his bags onto the floor and laid his arm across his best friend's shoulder and smirked.

Their moment was quickly shattered as a blond-haired boy walked past them to door 211.

"Hey, are you in room 211?" Stiles asked, moving from Scott's side to the wall beside his door.

The blond-haired boy turned and looked at Stiles as if he had no reason to be speaking to him. His jawline looked as if it had been drawn by the gods themselves and carved by angels. His eyebrows were perfectly shaped, yet his nose and lips looked too big for a face his size, but somehow these features fit perfectly on him. It was like an _Abercrombie & Fitch_ model stepped into the hallway beside of Scott and Stiles.

"Me? You're asking me if I'm in 211." He didn't ask, he just stated.

"Uh, yeah. That's what I asked," Stiles said, his mouth opening and an eyebrow shooting north.

"Why? Are you in 211?" The blond (who Stiles could now, rightly, assume was a douchebag) sneered at Stiles.

"Actually, yeah. Are you Jackson Something-or-other, the guy with the long last name that is way unnecessary?"

The guy leaned in towards Stiles and laughed mockingly. "That's funny. Yes, I'm Jackson. We can just stay on first name terms, last names are _unnecessary_."

Stiles frowned. "Why unnecessary?"

"I don't feel like we'll be very close. In fact, I'm already hoping I don't see you very often." With that, Jackson Something-or-other opened the door to 211 and walked in, closing the door in Stiles's face.

Stiles let out a breath that he wasn't even aware he had been holding. "Well, I can see this will be fun."

Scott gave his best friend an apologetic smile and shrugged. "At least this means my roommate can't be worse. Yours looks ready to eat you for breakfast."

"Thanks, Scott. _Always helpful_."

Scott laughed and handed Stiles his bag that he had been holding earlier. "Good luck," he said, walking over to room 210.

"Great. Thanks. I hope your roomie hates your guts," Stiles grinned, grabbing his bags and putting his hand on the door knob of 211.

Scott turned around long enough to clear his throat and smile with a hint of uncertainty. "Who can resist this jawline, Stiles?"


	2. Chapter 2

As the rest of his life goes, Scott was wrong.

The first sign came after he was able to get an hour to himself to unpack before his roommate showed up. He entered into the room and didn't say hello or even nod to acknowledge Scott. The taller, scruffy boy walked in, placed his bags and items onto the floor in front of his bed and immediately passed out on the mattress without any sheets or pillows. Scott tried not to look at his sleeping roommate. He wasn't going to wake him up just to make sure it was the Derek Hale whose name he had on the sheet of paper on his small, makeshift desk. He was going to take his nap as confirmation.

He was setting up his computer when Stiles made his way into the room without knocking.

"Dude, I thought you needed a key to get in," Scott laughed, not looking up from his work of setting up the "desk".

Stiles just grinned as he came around to Scott's side. "Scott, how long have you known me?"

"Too long, Stiles."

"And you haven't learned before now not to question the things I do?"

Scott shook his head as he turned on his laptop and plugged in the last of his cords. "I should know better."

"And now we can move on. Next on the agenda, is that guy _dead_?" Stiles asked, his face scrunching up as he pointed to the other bed in the room.

Scott shrugged. "He just came in and passed out. I guess that's my roomie. He didn't even say hi."

Stiles turned fully to his best friend. "He didn't say hi to you? How dare he! Next thing you know, he'll actually start using this as his room, too!" Stiles erupted into a fit of laughter, and walked over to Scott's bed, plopping down as it made an audible squeak.

"Not what I meant, Stiles," Scott said, shaking his head and sitting down beside Stiles. "He must be dead-tired. Poor guy, he'll miss orientation."

Stiles's jaw went slack and his eyes widened at Scott. "What time was that supposed to start?"

Scott reached onto the floor, in his bag, and grabbed the sheet of paper he had printed off before he left home. "Uh, it starts at noon. Why?"

Stiles groaned and ran a hand down his face. "Because we've missed it by thirty minutes."

Scott's eyes widened in the same fashion as Stiles's. "Shit." He shook his head and took a deep breath. "Want to try and see where everyone is?"

"No, that would require a lot of time and patience – both of which I don't have."

"You didn't take your Adderall today, did you?"

"That is a topic of which I will not touch, Scott!"

"Right. Well, did you at least get unpacked?" Scott leaned back against the wall and ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly. Scott and Stiles had the same idea over the summer: growing out hair for college makes you look less like a high school miscreant, but Ms. McCall had the opposite idea. ("You need to look clean and put-together, not like you're _homeless_," she had said.)

Stiles sucked on his cheek for a moment before answering. "No. Jackson took up most of the room with his dumb, expensive stuff. I have a corner and my bed, Scott. One corner! I can't even fit my bags in said corner, man."

Scott frowned. "I wish we could have roomed together. This sucks. At least we're right across from each other, though. That's a plus definitely."

"You're right. I hope Isaac is having more fun than we are." Stiles picked at the sheets Scott had put on his bed an hour earlier and huffed. "God, we need to do something. I can't just sit here, everything is so quiet and Sleepy Head is snoring a bit."

Scott's ears perked a bit and he looked over at his roommate – whether he was dead or alive could have been debated if it had not been for the semi-loud snoring coming from that side of the room. The scruffy mountain-man, as Stiles was now calling him, had his mouth open and drool was pooling near his cheek.

"Okay, so now we should definitely get out of here. He's going to make a pool soon enough, and I don't want to be sliding in dog drool." Stiles shuddered and stood from the bed. "Come on, let's go look around or something."

"Stiles, I can't get into trouble before classes even start. Maybe once they start, but until then my mom will kill me."

Stiles gaped at his best friend. "Dude, that's a week! You expect me to be good and not wander around all day for a week?" His shoulders fell and one of his hands started patting his thigh in a quiet rhythm. "You're right. I need to just sit in my room and not do anything. That's the only way I'm not going to find myself in trouble."

Scott nodded. Stiles was right; the only way to keep Stiles Stilinski from getting into trouble was... well, there still wasn't a sure-fire way yet, but keeping him locked in a room was close enough – the Beacon Hills Police Department would vouch for that.

Stiles continued, "This isn't what I expected college was like. I sure didn't think my roommate was going to hate me before we even met. I'm going to be scared to close my eyes to sleep. Jackson is scary, he has those weirdly good looks and I feel like he comes from the richest parents ever. Those combined leads to someone not getting trialed as guilty in a court of law for homicide."

Scott laughed, shaking head, and leaned forward on his bed. "Stiles, Jackson isn't going to kill you. People would hear him."

"Great. Thanks, that really calms me, Scott." Stiles said, the sarcasm dripping heavily from each syllable.

†

As it turns out, Stiles and Scott made do with the small station Scott had set up for his video games. They had grabbed the controllers and decided to wait out the orientation. They would still be there for the big "gathering" tomorrow where everyone had to be and get put into groups with the same major as them.

"Honestly, though, how fun is it going to be meeting a bunch of people who just happen to be majoring in Sociology?" Stiles asked, letting his _sarcasm_ show again. "Why don't they just let me meet people who are majoring in Sociology and getting their minor in Linguistics, because honestly that is the only way I think I'm going to meet someone I'll like. Even then, that's a long shot."

Scott groaned as he was killed in the game and waited for his character to be revived by Stiles before answering. "It's going to be great, Stiles. Maybe you'll meet someone who is a not-so-secret dork like yourself and you'll get a new best friend," Scott joked, but added hastily, "but you better not forget me, man. There is no way I'm going to find friends in people who are majoring in Media Studies! Those people look like they all want to be newscasters and journalists. I'm still not sure what I want to do, but this can't be good."

"Scott, your puppy eyes will make up for your lack of social skills. Just bat your eyelashes and everyone will be eating out of the palm of your hand. That's why I can't refuse you, those sad puppy eyes get to me and I can't sleep at night when I tell you no," Stiles laughed, his body jerking as he tried to not die in their game.

Scott laughed and shook his head. "No way. They're going to hate me, I know it."

Stiles paused their game and looked over at his best friend, his eyebrows furrowed. "Dude, we will be fine. I think." He nodded, more to assure himself everything would be fine than Scott. "Everyone will be begging to be your friend. Me? not so much, but if I can handle Jackson, I should be able to handle a few weirdos. I might even make friends with the weirdos!"

"That's because you're a weirdo."

Stiles tried to hide his grin as he punched Scott on the arm. "Thanks. You're a horrible friend."

"It's what I aim for, Stiles."

Stiles shook his head and he was about to laugh, but he heard a yawn from the other side of the room. Stiles turned around in the makeshift chair and raised an eyebrow to the boy who had begun stretching on his bed.

If looks could kill, the scowl on the boy's face would have exterminated cities by now. Stiles watched as the guy's shirt raised over his stomach as he stretched his arms upward – and_ what, who has abs like that?_ – and the muscles on his arms were flexing unnaturally. Stiles swallowed the spit that had been collecting in his mouth and made sure his jaw wasn't on the floor. He tried to turn away, but the mountain-man had stood from his bed and began searching through his bag.

"Crap! Stiles, you let us die, man!" Scott looked over at his friend and noticed his gaze was locked elsewhere. "I see," he mumbled under his breath.

"What, sorry. Sorry I died." Stiles had managed to half-look at Scott for a moment, but it was harder to turn his face completely to his best friend.

"We were on level 31, Stiles."

"We were? Sorry, Scott."

"I'm guessing orientation is well over then?" The mountain-man asked from the side of the room, sitting back on his bed. Stiles and Scott looked over at the voice, their eyes wide.

Stiles tried to not let his eyes move over the mountain-man's body as he answered, trying to look as if he wasn't appreciating it. "Yeah, it's been over for a while now."

The scruffy-jawed guy nodded, his eyebrows coming together. "You're not both my roommate's, are you? I'm not against guys sharing beds, but I would have liked to know before now so I could have bought earplugs."

Stiles blinked a few times and his jaw opened. "No! We're not – what? No, my room is across the hall but I have a douchebag for a roomie who only gave me a corner and I needed my best friend and – I'm just going to stop talking now." Stiles shook his head up and down and turned his face to the floor.

"Sorry, man, that's not it. I'm Scott, by the way, and this is Stiles," Scott grinned, nodding over at his best friend. He was trying so hard not to laugh at his best friend's verbal-vomit. He could tell Stiles was nervous, but that was normal Stiles around anyone that was even halfway attractive: case in point, Lydia Martin. He had crushed so hard on her all throughout school, but she never gave him the time of day. It was weird, though; he had always liked Lydia, but before going to Stanford after the summer, Stiles seemed to not even care if Lydia talked to him or not. In high school, Stiles would have fainted because she gave him her number, but the after-high-school Stiles just nodded and smiled at her when she wrote the number down a purple sticky note and placed it down in his hand._ Fake it_ (in Stiles's case: confidence)_ 'till you make it_, Scott guessed.

The mountain-man nodded and seemed to scowl less. "I'm Derek Hale. I'm going to the bathrooms, so don't steal my stuff, okay?" He stood from the bed, grabbing the bag he had been looking through earlier, and walked out the door.

Once he was out of range, Scott laughed. "Smooth, Stiles."

Stiles huffed out an irritated breath. "Don't laugh, I couldn't stop myself. I didn't see all of that muscle when he was sleeping, dude." Stiles shook his head. "I can't believe you get to room with the Greek god and I'm stuck with Jackson the Douchebag."

"Come on, Stiles. Jackson looks muscular, too."

Scott wasn't ready for the hard punch Stiles placed on his shoulder.

"I'm going back to my room where Jackson can kill me with his muscular arms then. Thanks, Scott." Stiles grinned from the door at his best friend and walked back out into the hallway. More people had appeared since they had come into the building, and it seemed as if everyone here really was a model. Stiles couldn't help but compare himself to them instantly. He shook his head and entered his dorm room, praying that Jackson was gone.

His prayers were answered as he opened the door to the room and found it empty. He sighed and walked over to the bed that he had made and grimaced at his bags thrown into a small corner. He hadn't even had a chance to put his clothes into the small closet before Jackson had begun throwing him cold looks earlier. The picture of him and his dad was on the nightstand he had placed beside the bed, and he picked the picture frame up, biting down on his cheek once again. He had already let his dad know he had arrived but he felt the need to call again. He knew his dad wouldn't go into work for another thirty minutes, so he had time.

The phone was picked up on the second ring. "Hey, Stiles. Missing your old dad already?" Sheriff Stilinski joked.

Stiles decided being honest was the best policy to implement at that moment. "Yeah, I am. I have a horrible roommate, dad. Remind me why I listened to Ms. McCall about not rooming with Scott."

His dad laughed on the line. "Because she is like your second mother, Stiles, and you know she would find you if you and Scott got into trouble."

Stiles nodded, placing the phone onto the other side of his face. "Right. That woman would be even more terrifying if she didn't have such puppy dog eyes like Scott." Stiles put the picture frame back down on his desk and sighed.

"You know your mother would be so proud of you, right? She wanted to you to do well for yourself, Stiles. You will, I know it. I used to worry that you would get into too much trouble, but your mom was always sure that you were going to be somebody great – and antics were part of what made you so great." Stiles heard his dad shift on the other end. His dad got uncomfortable talking about Stiles's mom, they both did. "You're going to do awesome, Stiles, don't let an asshole roommate make you hate college."

Stiles smiled to himself as he felt his eyes water the smallest amount. "I won't, and thanks for everything. Thanks for being an awesome dad."

His father chuckled and told his son he loved him before hanging up the phone so he could go to work.

Stiles looked around the room and decided he might as well irritate Jackson as much as possible. If just _existing_ made Jackson angry, imagine what it would do to him if Stiles made the room as dirty as possible, taking up and cluttering every inch of space that Jackson was not using – which wasn't much, but Stiles would make it worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles was woken the next morning by the sounds of screaming in the hallway. He groaned and sat up onto his elbows in bed. Jackson was probably still in the deep sleep he had been in since he came back to the room last night and saw the state it was in.

_"What did you _do_?" Jackson glared. "I left this room spotless. Spotless meaning you had nothing out of your bags."_

_ Stiles had smiled, showing all of his teeth. "It feels more like home now, right? I know, I know, no need to thank me, buddy," he said, slinging an arm around Jackson's shoulders. He could feel Jackson's body temperature rising from how angry he was getting. "I even made sure I included you!"_

_ Jackson looked confused for a moment, but Stiles pointed to the area under his bed. Jackson's eyes widened so much it could have been comical if Stiles wasn't sure he was going to be killed any second._

_ Stiles had placed anything that was an "unnecessary addition to the room" to Jackson's empty space under his bed. Stiles had not even bothered to place them under the bed in any order, he had just shoved a lacrosse stick, stereo system, and more under the bed without any care._

_ "You – you idiot. That stuff is worth more than your life!" Jackson had shaken himself away from Stiles and grabbed his belongings under the bed, piling them onto his mattress._

_ Stiles folded his arms over his chest. _Be bad ass, Stiles_, he thought, _don't let him think you're weak_. "Next time, leave some space for others, Jackson with the long last name."_

_ Stiles didn't bother to spend one more second in the room, running out the door and over to Scott's room. Of course, Derek was back and stared at Stiles as he walked in._

_ "Don't you need a key to get in here?" Derek raised an eyebrow but went back to typing away on his computer._

_ "That's not important right now. Where's Scott?"_

_ "He went to the bathroom."_

_ Stiles nodded, looking back toward the door. "Okay. I just need to hide here for... a little bit."_

_ Derek almost looked amused, a small twitch of his lips showing it. He turned a bit from his computer screen and tilted his head at Stiles. _

_ "I pissed off Jackson and I'm pretty sure he is going to kill me. I tried to look like a bad ass, but yeah, that only worked until I practically ran out of the room in fear."_

_ Derek didn't look surprised. He nodded and returned to his work._

_ Stiles sat down on Scott's bed, taking a deep breath. He clasped his hands together, trying not to look nervous. It wasn't like there was a guy in the room whose looks could have rivaled the beauty of Adonis or anything. No, that definitely wasn't a thing, and it wasn't like he was hiding from a potential murderer_

_ "Avoiding him and running away is just going to make him think you're scared of him. If you were to walk back in there and act like you just used the bathroom or something, he won't say a word," Derek informed him, looking slightly amused._

_ Stiles head jerked up. "Really?"_

_ Derek gave him a wicked grin. "Try it."_

_ Derek had been right. Stiles walked back in the room acting like he was drying his hands off on his pants. Jackson looked up at his entrance and glared but said nothing. Stiles was able to sleep with both eyes closed._

"Get up, losers! Second day of orientation!" Stiles heard the screaming come from the hallway. He guessed it was their RA, whom he guessed was a total ass, but he needed to be on the guy's good side. (It was always good to have an authority figure that liked you in case you got into trouble, of course.)

Stiles pulled off the covers and grabbed some clothes from the clean basket he had arranged last night (the clean and dirty baskets took up far more room than they needed just because Stiles could make them do so – take that, Jackson). After grabbing his bag of essentials and a towel, he headed down toward the bathroom. A few other guys were awake, making their way out into the hallway to see what the fuss was about.

The bathroom wasn't especially large, but it was enough for a hall of guys. Stiles realized if he wanted to get a good shower, he was going to have to start waking up earlier than nine. There were at least six guys other than himself, two of them waiting for a sink to open up. Stiles smiled to himself, thanking his lazy side for brushing his teeth while in the shower.

He found an open shower stall near the back and placed his towel right outside the door. He was in and out in record time. Stiles debated whether or not he should change into his clothes in the wet shower stall or step out in his towel where everyone could see him. He shook his head of damp hair before stepping out of the stall. He had no reason to hide away anymore. He was in college, where this was normal. He could step out in just a towel and get dressed as he pleased.

Except that was not the case. As he stepped out in his towel, he saw some of the other guys standing around already dressed. They must have already gotten dressed out here, though. _Right_, Stiles thought, _that's definitely what happened_. Every guy in the bathroom looked at him a little odd as he stepped to the back corner of the bathroom to get dressed. There weren't any official changing areas, but Stiles decided to just go with it.

As he was avoiding eyes and getting dressed, he felt someone walk to the other side of the small bench placed there. Stiles pulled his pants up and buttoned them before he looked up to the other guy.

It was just Derek.

Just Derek.

Who was standing in nothing but a towel, with his hair wet and water still dripping from his body.

"Hey, Derek," Stiles said, trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible. If he started looking too much, he might not be able to stop himself.

Derek nodded at Stiles and scowled less than usual for a second before dropping his towel and moving to pull on his clothes.

Stiles breathed deeply through his nose and looked to the right, as far from Derek as possible. His brain, though, had different ideas. His eyes slid back toward Derek, who still had water on his shoulders and stomach. His toned shoulders moved as his muscles worked, moving up as he pulled on his jeans. That wasn't even the worst: Derek's stomach was so toned that the water droplets had formed in between the abdominal muscles he had clearly worked hard for.

As he hurriedly pulled on a shirt, Stiles tore his gaze away from the distraction in front of him. He grabbed his items and bag, slinging the towel around his arm, and looked at Derek. "See you later." Stiles rushed out of the bathroom and walked out into the hallway. After he put his stuff back into his room, he walked over to find Scott still in bed.

"Dude, you have to wake up. It's bad enough we missed campus tour yesterday, we have to go to this thing." Stiles slapped one of Scott's feet that were at the bottom of the bed and huffed as Scott made no movement. "Scott, wake up, buddy." Still no movement. Stiles bit his cheek and scratched at the stubble forming on his jaw.

Stiles went and grabbed the large pillow he had used yesterday as a chair. He walked to the side of Scott's bed and took a deep breath. "Scott, I'm sorry, please don't hit me." Stiles closed his eyes and went to sling the pillow at his best friend when Scott reached up and caught the pillow with one of his hands. They were in the awkward position of both holding a side of the pillow when Derek walked into the room.

He raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"Sorry. You weren't waking up, man." Stiles grinned sheepishly, letting go of his grip on the pillow.

Scott, with his hand on the other side, tossed the pillow back to the corner of the room where his makeshift desk was. "You did a great job, Stiles, now back off so I can get out of bed." Scott raised out of bed and saw the time.

"Yeah, you're not going to have time for a shower, bud. Plan B: smell like a hobo."

"Stiles, you're not helping."

Stiles shrugged and sat down on the edge of Scott's bed as he grabbed some clothes for the day. As Stiles looked around the room, he noticed how Scott's side of the room was like him: messy but organized, small sports equipment in the corner, and books all over his desk. Scott seemed to make anywhere feel like home, even if he would only be in the room for a few minutes.

Derek, though, barely had anything but his sheets on the bed. There was no television, but plenty of books spilling out of his bags (which were still lying on the ground, unpacked). He had placed a laptop in the corner on a small table and had some postcards splayed out around it. It looked like he would only be there for a day or two.

"Those are from my sister," Derek said, breaking Stiles out of his reverie. Stiles's eyebrows shot up as he met Derek's eyes, looking away from the table in Derek's corner. "She sends them anytime she finds some new place she wants to call home; I get a new one every week."

Stiles watched Derek's face as the scruffy boy's eyes grew fond when he spoke about his sister. "She sounds like fun."

Derek's eyes darkened and he looked away. "She is, but a bit too spontaneous. It's more _careless _than adventurous."

Stiles didn't try to pick up the conversation and a few moments later Derek announced he was heading to the courtyard where everyone was to meet for the day.

Stiles's leg, as he was sitting on the bed, was moving at a record pace as he waited for Scott to finish getting dressed. "Are you done?"

Scott narrowed his eyes playfully at Stiles. "Sure, I'm going to go out there with no shirt."

"Like that's any different from how you normally dress," Stiles mumbled, earning himself a punch to the shoulder.

†

The courtyard was, more or less, full of seven-hundred plus bodies. Stiles and Scott found themselves in a mess of people, none of which they had seen before. By a half-hour after ten, though, they had started dividing everyone into groups with similar majors. The four schools (education, engineering, earth sciences, and humanities and sciences) were split into four separate areas of the courtyard, each one on a different compass direction from the large fountain in the center. Stiles could spot Isaac across the courtyard, standing amongst the engineering majors. Of course Isaac had to be the smart one and go for a _practical major_ like Product Design. Stiles's school was on the east side; he was with Scott in the humanities and sciences group, but then they had divided everyone into even _smaller_ groups.

Most of the students who were in Scott's group looked as if they stepped out of a hipster magazine. A few kids even had old cameras slung around their necks. Stiles wasn't sure whether he should laugh at the look that appeared on Scott's face as he walked toward the group.

Stiles, on the other hand, was pointed to a group of students that all seemed to wear serious clothes and project maturity. He was given a sticker that had the abbreviation "Soc." on it to show he was a Sociology major, but he thought about taking a marker and changing it once he saw his peers. The number of people in his group was far smaller than the engineering, education, and earth sciences mini-groups, but these guys looked more intimidating somehow.

He cleared his throat as he got closer to a few girls who had "Soc." on their tags as well. One girl, in particular, had wavy, blonde hair that flowed halfway down here back. She looked the most normal of the bunch, wearing a Batman T-shirt with normal jean shorts. She was _normal_ in the group of button-downs and nice dress pants.

"Hi," Stiles said, approaching her. "I'm Stiles."

The girl's eyes came to look at Stiles and she smiled. "Hi, I'm Erica," she said, holding out her hand. The black jacket she wore over her shirt came up onto her forearm and Stiles could see a scar on the lower side of her wrist.

Stiles grinned unevenly and shook her hand. "So, it seems we're probably the most normal in the bunch, huh? I'm not used to _normal_ being an adjective to describe me."

Erica laughed, the sweet sound filling Stiles's ears. "It seems that you're right, and I'm not too close with that term either. Seizures hold you back a little."

Stiles nodded in understanding and looked around them. He spotted a tan-skinned boy in jeans and felt better about his pants choice. Maybe there were two people he could talk to.

He took the chance and looked in Scott's direction. Scott was talking animatedly to a brown-haired girl that had a strong face. She kept smiling at Scott and laughing. Apparently, he had found himself a friend.

Stiles smiled and turned back toward Erica, who was now walking away. He watched her walk to a girl who was on the edge of another group, and Erica laughed with the other girl, pointing slightly to others in her group.

"Hi, I'm Danny." Stiles turned behind him with his eyebrows raised. Well, he didn't even need to approach the guy with jeans, he came to Stiles. Stiles shook Danny's hand and nodded.

"I'm Stiles, and apparently Sociology was a wrong choice," he laughed, pointing to the tag on his shirt.

Danny laughed. "I was thinking the same thing." He smiled at Stiles, his eyes warm and friendly. "Is Stiles your real name?"

Stiles shook his head comically. "No, just a nickname, but it's just better than trying to pronounce my actual first name."

Danny nodded in understanding. "Sounds good to me, Stiles."

Turns out, Danny was a really cool guy. Stiles talked to him until the orientation for the day was almost over, mostly about their high schools and friends, but they also talked about their love for action movies.

"I'm telling you, Captain America is the best of the Avengers! His humanity is what makes him amazing," Danny was arguing.

Stiles flung his arms in a wacky movement. "If that's the argument, then Black Widow, Hawkeye, or Iron Man could be the best. Dude, The Hulk is so much better. Not only is the guy a freakin' genius, but he turns into a big green ball of rage!"

Danny shook his head and laughed. He wasn't given the chance to reply, though, as Stiles spotted Derek to his left.

"Hey, Derek!" Stiles yelled over the heads of some Sociology majors, waving his hand in a motion for Derek to come closer.

Derek looked to his left and right before raising his eyebrows and walking toward Stiles. He walked to the side of Stiles and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Hey."

Stiles grinned and looked for the tag on Derek's shirt, but didn't find one. "Where's your tag at?"

Derek shrugged. "Took it off. I was actually heading back to the dorm."

Stiles nodded. He wasn't sure how to proceed with conversation, but he didn't need to continue. Derek gave a small smile and walked off, sending Stiles a wave behind him once he was halfway across the courtyard. It wasn't like Stiles watched him that long, though.

Stiles and Scott met up thirty minutes later at one of the cafeterias on campus.

"Did you find any dorks in disguise?" Scott joked, grabbing a plate with a hamburger that looked too good for him to pass up.

Stiles scoffed. "Of course, we have this magnetism about us. We attract each other from miles away." He grabbed a plate with a sandwich on it and a bowl of fruit. Hopefully his dad was making the same kind of choices back home instead of finding the food that Scott seemed to enjoy every moment of every day. "I did meet this guy named Danny who seemed pretty cool, and this girl named Erica was nice."

Scott blushed quickly and turned away from Stiles. "Don't think I didn't notice the American Apparel model you found yourself, Scott."

Scott groaned, throwing his head back, and put down his plate on the tray holder for a moment. "I know. She was so sweet, though. Her name is Allison and she's majoring in Film Studies, too. Stiles, she talked with me about so many movies and shows. She likes so much of the same stuff I do, and she has a really pretty face, too."

"And body. Don't forget she has a killer body, Scott. I know it's coming."

Scott blushed again and picked up his tray, moving onto the next section. He grabbed a plate of cheesecake before speaking again. "Maybe."

"Scott, you're going to hook up before orientation is over and I'm going to be single throughout all of college, I can see it now. I'll die alone," Stiles joked, grabbing a glass and getting himself water.

His best friend laughed and waited for Stiles before they walked around to find a table. They sat down their food and pulled chairs right across from each other at a table near the back corner of the cafeteria. "Not true, Stiles. What about that Danny guy? Or that Erica you met?"

Stiles, who was chewing part of his sandwich, felt his jaw go slack. He barely recovered enough to swallow the food in his mouth, but he didn't have a chance to answer before Scott spoke up again.

"You don't have to try to hide it, man. You're my best friend. I don't care, Stiles," Scott said, smiling gently at Stiles.

"Are we having a moment? I don't like it," Stiles laughed, resuming his eating.

Scott shook his head and joked, "Stiles, _honestly_."


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Stiles was able to receive a master schedule for his classes. The professors sounded decent enough (but he definitely did not "research" them on a website that most would laugh at, no, not Stiles). The classes he needed to fill his credit hours the first semester looked awfully terrifying, though.

"Who names a class _Comparative Ethnic Conflict_? It sounds like the scariest class ever, and that's including Harris's Chemistry, Scott," Stiles sighed as he was hanging off of Scott's bed. Scott was in the corner, playing on his laptop, while Stiles was on his back, hanging off of the bed – Derek was nowhere to be found, but that seemed to be the norm for him.

Scott laughed. "Someone who wants to torture you, of course."

Stiles, as much as possible in his position, turned his mouth into an exaggerated frown. "Funny."

Scott shook his head playfully and looked at Stiles. "Stiles, it's college. It isn't going to be really easy like high school was for you."

From his position on the bed, Stiles turned over and sat onto his knees on the bed while blood rushed to the rest of his body quickly. He took a second to steady himself before narrowing his eyes at Scott. "Easy? High school was _not_ easy for me. The work, sure, but not the whole make-friends-and-have-a-social-life thing." Before Scott could protest, Stiles continued, "Don't even fight me on this, you know it's true." Stiles sighed, "I just thought I would have more time for fun, but it looks like my classes are going to murder me."

"Dude, you'll be fine. I won't let you get too busy to not have time for fun," Scott grinned.

Stiles tried to keep himself from smiling as he shook his head. "Fine, we need some parties anyway."

†

As it turns out, it didn't take Stiles and Scott but two days before they found a party.

Allison, the pretty girl Scott had met (_fallen in love with_) at orientation, had called Scott and invited them to her sorority right outside of campus. She told Scott that they had plenty of drinks at the party and that he could bring whoever he wanted as long as they wouldn't throw up on their nice lawn because the head-sister would get pissed. Scott and Stiles could even walk from their dorm, so they didn't have the trouble of finding a designated driver.

As they stood in the middle of a house full of girls (and very few guys, Stiles noted), Scott thanked Stiles for coming with him.

"Scott, do you honestly think I wanted to stay back at the dorm with Jackson? Come on, dude."

Scott laughed and took a sip from the red, plastic cup he had. "Do you mind if I go find Allison? She said she would be in the kitchen."

Stiles nodded quickly, "Go ahead. I would like to see you try to find the kitchen, though." Stiles watched as Scott swayed slightly on his mission to find Allison.

As Stiles looked around the living room of the sorority house, he didn't see anyone he knew or any girls that would catch his eye. He even stuck around for thirty minutes after Scott had ditched him for his dream girl, hoping to find someone worth talking to. None of the girls seemed interested, though, so he sent a text message to Scott saying he was heading home early. Even though Stiles had drank a few cups full of some nice beer (thanks, Allison), he was fine to walk back by himself.

He had made it to campus around midnight when he realized he hadn't looked at much of the place. He had seen the main building, their dorm, the cafeteria, and Isaac's dorm building. Other than that, Stiles felt like he had no idea what the campus could really hold for him. He knew heading to the rec center so late at night wasn't a good idea, it would probably be closed anyway. He thought for a minute before he remembered the library beside their dorm was open all night long.

Stiles made his way into the building, scanning his student I.D. card for access, and walked up to the top floor. He had seen large windows there from his dorm room, and they seemed to look out over the whole campus.

The top floor was beautiful, to say the least. The windows that stretched along the far wall gave the illusion of a wall of windows, looking out over the campus. Stiles could see the sky as well, the stars dimly shining. The light from the poles outside alone could have illuminated the room, but there were large, luxurious chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, above the desks in the center of the room. The whole space looked like shelves among shelves that weaved their way through the room like a maze, only leaving room for the twenty or so tables in the center. The wooden shelves complimented the dark wood of the walls, a kind of ethereal beauty, as if the room was some space created by the heavens. Stiles had never been one who loved being in a library, but he began to think that could change.

Before giving a quick glance to the rest of the room, he made his way toward the large bookshelf to his right and noticed it was full of fiction. Stiles traced his long fingers along the spines of the books as he passed each one. His eyes traced along each shelf, reading the titles as quickly as he could. So many of the books looked interesting to Stiles, but he knew that he wouldn't have much time for recreational reading once his classes started. He kept walking until he passed a book titled _Room: A Novel,_ which he was sure he had heard someone recommend to him before. Stiles grabbed the book from the shelf and looked at the back cover. He flipped it over in his hands a few times before deciding the synopsis on the back deemed it worth reading. Stiles sighed and made his way back to the tables in the center of the room.

Stiles was sure he hadn't been behind the shelves for long, but when he came back he saw that Derek was sitting at one of the tables nearest the wall of windows. Stiles brow furrowed and he looked from Derek to the doors exiting to the lower floors. He wasn't sure if he and Derek were friends enough that it was okay to go sit with him.

_What the hell_, Stiles thought and walked over to the table Derek was busy reading at.

Stiles didn't greet his best friend's roommate, but he pulled out a chair and sat down. Derek placed his hand on the page where he was reading and looked up from under his eyelashes at the intruder of his personal space. Derek raised an eyebrow slightly before returning his head back down to the book. "Hey, Stiles."

For a moment, Stiles was actually unsure whether Derek had meant him. "Me?"

"Your name _is_ Stiles," Derek replied, and Stiles could see the grin forming as the stubble on Derek's face rearranged itself to make room for the expression.

Stiles blinked and let out a shaky breath. "You're right," he smirked slightly. "What are you doing at the library so late? You should be at the dorm taking advantage of the time Scott and I aren't in there, we both know that won't be happening often," Stiles chuckled quietly and smiled Derek's way.

"That would be a good idea if your roommate, Jackson, wasn't terrorizing everyone on our floor because someone stole his razor while he was in the shower."

Stiles smiled wider. "That sounds like Jackson. You know, every time I see him, I dislike him a little less, but that might be me going crazy." Stiles was sure his dad had something to do with it, though.

Derek didn't reply right away, but he grabbed a piece of paper and stuck it between the pages of the book he was reading. "It was horrible. He even accused me of being your alliance and stealing it so you could continue to ruin his life."

"That sounds even more like him, if that's possible," Stiles laughed. Derek smiled at him gently and closed the book he had in his hands. "What are you reading?" Stiles asked, crooning his neck to look at the title.

Derek raised his eyebrows and made a face at the book. "Something Laura sent me. She passed through Arizona about a week ago and met some guy who apparently is into all of this spiritual healing stuff and she thinks it will help me stop being so 'grumpy'." Derek looked back at Stiles and shook his head. "Everywhere she goes, she finds something like this and sends it to me."

Stiles tilted his head and looked at the cover of the book. Its cover had a dove and a cliche romantic look. "_The Gifts of Imperfection_? Your sister must really want to kill you," Stiles laughed, leaning back in his chair and looking up at Derek.

The man in front of him nodded his head before he laughed loudly. "I know," he grinned Stiles's way, "she thinks I don't open up to her enough. The book's silly, but so is she. I like them, though, for some reason," he starts, looking down at the book delicately, "they just seem so much like her that it makes it harder for me to miss her. It's like she's right beside of me when I read these dumb books she sends."

Stiles rubbed his palms, which were sweating slightly now, along the fabric of his jeans. He averted Derek's eyes as he spoke, "That's how I feel when I read my mom's old cook books. She wrote down notes in the margins, like '¾ cup milk too much, try for ½ cup for easier setup.' It feels like she is there correcting me when I follow along with one of the book's instructions too much."

Derek's eyes had a gentle look about them when Stiles finally looked back at him. He clearly understood it was a delicate subject and turned the attention back to the books at hand. "What are you reading?"

Stiles's eyes widened and he peered at the book he had grabbed from the shelves, which was set in the middle of the table. "I have a friend, Isaac, who recommended it. He said I would like the writing style, so I figured why not try it out. I'll have to hurry and finish it before classes start, though. I'm pretty sure once they start, I'll have about zero time for myself."

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek as he realized that his eyes kept following Derek's hands, hands that were putting his book into a small bag he had set beside of his chair. "Same here. I've been questioning why I chose English since I first stepped foot on campus."

"Wait, you're majoring in English? I'm minoring in Linguistics, maybe we'll have classes together, besides the generals, of course. I have a feeling the general classes are going to be horrible," Stiles groaned, tapping his fingers on the table top. "There are so many people here, all of which seem to be models, you included."

Derek face scrunched up in amusement for a second. "You're right about the basics, but not about the model thing."

Stiles shook his head and pointed a finger slightly at Derek. "It's even worse when you people deny it, that just makes the attraction levels go higher."

Laughing, Derek grabbed his bag and placed it onto his shoulder before he stood. "You're in that same category, Stiles." He shook his head as he continued laughing, walking toward the door leading to the stairs. "See you later, Stiles."

Stiles hadn't moved since Derek had put the bag onto his shoulder, even his fingers had stopped tapping on the table. The look on his face read pure confusion as he looked down at the book that he had picked out. _Not okay, Derek. Not _fair_, more importantly_.

Stiles grabbed the book and stood. He headed to the wall of windows silently and looked down at the sidewalk underneath it. For a moment, Stiles saw nothing, but eventually Derek made his way onto the concrete paved path and headed toward their dorm building. Before he got too far, though, Derek turned back and grinned, throwing a wave to Stiles who stood behind the window.

_Not fair_.


End file.
